Orc
diagnosed autist
Staff
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2022
- Posts
- 27,634
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you’re supposed to strip down everything, your body, your dignity, your fears, and offer it up to someone who at best tolerates you, and at worst judges you for it
they tell you it’s normal to be vulnerable with women, that it’s healthy, but deep down, you know that every crack you show gets filed away, every weakness you confess becomes invisible ammo, even if they never use it out loud
you’re not being loved, you’re being tolerated for as long as you stay useful, entertaining, or desirable enough to justify your presence.
it’s not vulnerability that feels wrong, it’s who you’re expected to give it to
real vulnerability should be reserved for your brothers, the ones who’ve seen you fall apart and didn’t flinch, the ones who know you’re broken and stand closer anyway
they tell you "trust is sexy", "emotional intimacy is important" , sure, right up until you cry one (1) time and she feels her uterus shrivel out of disgust, you were never a person to her, you were a vibe, a phase, a disposable dopamine hit with an expiration date, a living breathing "can he provide stability and entertain me?" checklist.
real vulnerability isn’t something you toss at people who are biologically hardwired to lose respect for you the second they sense weakness, you save that for the few brothers who’ve seen the wreckage and decided to sit down in it with you, light a cigarette, and say, "yeah, man, life’s a bitch", the only people who can survive the radioactive wasteland of your psyche are the ones already mutated from exposure
women don't want the real you
most of the time, you don't even want the real you, the only people who can stand the smell of your soul rotting are the ones rotting right next to you, and that’s real loyalty, that's real brotherhood, that’s as straight as it gets.
you wanna know real intimacy?
it's chain-smoking with your bro at 2AM, both of you staring into the darkness and saying "yeah, I'd kill myself but the queue is too long"
it's sending each other the dumbest memes imaginable as a replacement for saying "i love you, bro"
go ahead, bare your soul to a woman, just don’t cry when she folds it into a paper airplane and throws it straight into the sun
and when you’re curled up in a ball wondering where it all went wrong, just remember:
you could have been spooning your best friend platonically on a couch that smells like old doritos instead,
straight, as, hell
they tell you it’s normal to be vulnerable with women, that it’s healthy, but deep down, you know that every crack you show gets filed away, every weakness you confess becomes invisible ammo, even if they never use it out loud
you’re not being loved, you’re being tolerated for as long as you stay useful, entertaining, or desirable enough to justify your presence.
it’s not vulnerability that feels wrong, it’s who you’re expected to give it to
real vulnerability should be reserved for your brothers, the ones who’ve seen you fall apart and didn’t flinch, the ones who know you’re broken and stand closer anyway
they tell you "trust is sexy", "emotional intimacy is important" , sure, right up until you cry one (1) time and she feels her uterus shrivel out of disgust, you were never a person to her, you were a vibe, a phase, a disposable dopamine hit with an expiration date, a living breathing "can he provide stability and entertain me?" checklist.
real vulnerability isn’t something you toss at people who are biologically hardwired to lose respect for you the second they sense weakness, you save that for the few brothers who’ve seen the wreckage and decided to sit down in it with you, light a cigarette, and say, "yeah, man, life’s a bitch", the only people who can survive the radioactive wasteland of your psyche are the ones already mutated from exposure
women don't want the real you
most of the time, you don't even want the real you, the only people who can stand the smell of your soul rotting are the ones rotting right next to you, and that’s real loyalty, that's real brotherhood, that’s as straight as it gets.
you wanna know real intimacy?
it's chain-smoking with your bro at 2AM, both of you staring into the darkness and saying "yeah, I'd kill myself but the queue is too long"
it's sending each other the dumbest memes imaginable as a replacement for saying "i love you, bro"
go ahead, bare your soul to a woman, just don’t cry when she folds it into a paper airplane and throws it straight into the sun
and when you’re curled up in a ball wondering where it all went wrong, just remember:
you could have been spooning your best friend platonically on a couch that smells like old doritos instead,
straight, as, hell
